


Public Offering

by Thia (Jennaria)



Category: Good Omens - Gaiman & Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-01
Updated: 2009-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 08:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennaria/pseuds/Thia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How would you tempt an angel? If the angel is Aziraphale, well...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Public Offering

**Author's Note:**

> This started with tea and took a left turn into rare books and auction catalogs. Thanks go to thesilentpoet for providing the actual auction catalogs that I, er, adapted to my purposes.

It was not unusual for Crowley to stroll into the book store at all sorts of hours, without much care for such niceties as whether the sign was turned to OPEN.[1] It was somewhat rarer for Aziraphale to see his opposite number _stalk_ into the store, although this had also happened, generally when Hell had contacted Crowley with a particularly ridiculous request.

Crowley had never before _slithered_ in. For one thing, the human form really wasn't built for proper slithering. For another, while slithering is a perfectly respectable mode of locomotion for a serpent, humans tend to look sneaky at best, slightly ashamed at worst. Crowley looked somewhere in between.

Aziraphale set down the book he had been reading (re-reading, to be perfectly honest), and said, "Good evening?"

Crowley stopped, took a deep breath, then leaned forward, bracing both hands on the table and watching Aziraphale intently over the top of his glasses. "Lot 62, illustrations for the Bible. 28 lithographed plates by Chagall, including 16 in color and 105 reproductions."

Aziraphale blinked. "My dear, what --"

"Lot 48, Hebrew Bible. Sefer Tehillim. Psalterium." Crowley's mouth twisted as he spoke the Hebrew words, but they tumbled out without faltering. "Leiden, Johannes Le Maire, 1637, 120 leaves. Printer's device upside down on the title page."

"It's a re-issue," Aziraphale said, and realized his voice had come out a bit husky. Really, a mere upside-down printer's device wasn't worth his interest. And what _was_ Crowley doing?

Crowley leaned forward. His glasses appeared to have vanished entirely. "Lot 232. Wilde, Oscar. Autograph manuscript of the novel Dorian Gray, with holograph revisions throughout."

An original manuscript? With _revisions_? Aziraphale didn't know what sort of noise he made, but he did hesitate for a long moment. Then he shook himself, and made himself meet Crowley's eyes, and said tiredly, "Get thee behind me."

Crowley sighed, and sat down at the table rather than getting anywhere at all. His glasses had re-appeared, properly on his face. "Someone complained about you Below," he muttered, dropping an auction catalog on the table. "And they're talking about setting up a quota system for tempting. It was _efficient_, angel."

"I'll mention it in my report next week," Aziraphale said, more sharply than usual. He was regretting that autograph manuscript, and annoyed at his own regret. But when he got up a few minutes later to make tea, he brought back two cups. Crowley _was_, theoretically, his enemy. It helped to be reminded every so often. Otherwise one became too comfortable.

-end-

[1]This was probably for the best, given how rarely this was the case.


End file.
